A tale of survival

A bar singer for 15 years, Haldankar bares her heart in her memoirs, Barbala.

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She’s an unlikely author at a star studded book reading session and her memoirs, Barbala, an equally unusual subject.

But, unfazed by the sometimes judgmental glances of her guests, Vaishali Haldankar rattles off excerpts from her 1,200 page autobiography that bares her soul and her life.

“I don’t want sympathy. If this book makes people view women differently, I’ll be happy,” says the 42-year-old singer who has spent 15 years performing at seedy dance bars across the city.

Dressed in a simple salwar-kurta, Haldankar recounts the story of her life—sorrows, obstacles, challenges and her ultimate goal to be a lawyer. She’s seen it all—a bad childhood, abusive marriage, gang rapes at bars and exploitation from customers.

The pain is evident in her voice but her twinkling eyes exude an unusual confidence and hope for a brighter future. “I often cry when I think of my past but music keeps me fresh and alive,” she says.

Vaishali Haldankar

Three decades of music has had its positive effects; its hard to believe that she’s a mother of two grown up sons. Another lifeline is her faith in the Osho principles.

“It taught me not to expect anything,” she says of her five-month stint at Pune’s Osho Ashram. Leaving behind unpleasant memories, Haldankar is now completing her education. “I want to become a lawyer so that I can fight for the rights of women. I don’t want people to look down on us only because we perform in bars,” she says.

Born into a family of performers—her father was a classical singer from the Gwalior gharana and her mother a kirtan musician —Haldankar eloped with a signboard painter at the age of 15.

“I wanted to escape from my father who harassed me. I didn’t love my husband but felt he wouldn’t use me,” she says. The hope of a happy married life didn’t last long.

Within months, she found herself trapped in an abusive marriage with no regular income to feed her two sons.

Desperate to build a comfortable life for her family, Haldankar stepped out of her home and into a beer bar 15 years ago.

What followed was an unpredictable life—nights of singing in bars, trips to Muscat, gang rapes, harassment from the police and a torrid relationship with a gangster.

At the release with director Mahesh Bhatt

Her family abandoned her and neighbours taunted her about her ‘lowly’ profession. As a singer in a bar orchestra, she earned a little over Rs 400 a night, mostly through tips.

Determined to cash in on her voice, she spent hours practicing any song she could—folk music, Bollywood numbers and even English hits.

“Dancers make more money but artistes are not respected. Customers often misbehave and you have to quietly bear it,” she says.

Ask her why she didn’t try her luck in a Bollywood orchestra (a more respectable career) and Haldankar confesses that she didn’t want to move out of her wellpaying job.

Unwilling to let go of easy money, she suffered the blows she faced but the one incident that left her shattered was when her elder son raped her. “I collapsed; I just wanted to die,” she says.

The ban on dance bars has meant that Haldankar’s earnings have gone down by almost half. “We still sing but with no dancers to sway to our beats, patrons stay away,” she rues. It was a train journey in a packed Karjat local that changed her life four years ago. She got chatting with social activist Varsha Kale, and minutes before the train pulled into Karjat station, Kale had convinced her to pen down her experiences. A month after her book released, Haldankar is the champion of Mumbai’s exploited dance bar girls.

An activist and co-founder of the Bar Girls Union of India, she busies herself helping bar performers find a livelihood; tries to offer them vocational training and makes frequent trips to the state secretariat demanding rehabilitation for jobless bar dancers.

If her dreams of becoming a lawyer don’t materialise, she’ll probably go back to where she began—crooning foot tapping numbers at bars.